


Ronald: a Sensual Apprentice

by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/pseuds/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An escaped convict gives a schoolboy an erotic education.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ronald: a Sensual Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work  
>  **Warning(s):** Explicit descriptions of male/male sex acts, chan (36/15), swearing, ejaculate, manual sex, voyeurism, anal fingering, anal sex.  
>  Arguably underage sexual activity (Ron is 15, which means that events described here would be legal in many countries including Italy, Poland, Spain, Iceland, Sweden, China, Peru, Romania, Burkina Faso and several others, but not in the UK where this story is set, nor in any US states.)  
> Originally written for [](http://deathjunke.livejournal.com/profile)[**deathjunke**](http://deathjunke.livejournal.com/) for [](http://hp-rarities.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hp-rarities.livejournal.com/)**hp_rarities** . I thought I was going to get your spanking in, but it never felt like the right moment, so I'm sorry for that. I hope you enjoy the naughty things these two decided to get up to instead.

Ron wished that Harry was with them at Grimmauld Place that summer. Dumbledore had assured everyone that he was better off with the Dursleys, but Ron didn't see it that way and he didn't think that Harry would either. Hermione was staying there, of course, which was mostly good, but sometimes all the nagging and reading and serious purpose got a bit much. The twins were fun, but sometimes they were _too much_ fun. Everyone else was caught up in the Order's secrets. Oh, apart from Ginny, but little sisters don't count.

They were in the sitting room one evening and Hermione was reading. Just for a change. Ron sprawled on the sofa, flicking through a Quidditch magazine. He'd stopped reading the Prophet, because all those little digs at Harry made him just too angry.

"He's glaring at us again," Hermione hissed.

"Huh?" Ron looked up. He hadn't even heard Sirius enter, but there he was, sitting near to the door and, unmistakably, glaring in their direction.

"Moody weirdo!" Hermione whispered. She would never have said that to Harry, who adored his godfather. "It's not our fault we're here and Harry isn't."

She looked back at the text in her hands, but she only managed to concentrate for a couple of minutes before she interrupted Ron's calculations about League positions again. "I'm going to the kitchen. I can't stay in here with him ..."

"We can't!" Ron protested.

"Why not?"

"The twins, they said they'd meet us back here!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to take orders from those two even if you are." Then she flounced out of the room.

Ron thought about following her. Only, Fred and George had said they would be right back. He had offered to do them a favour, without asking them what it was. Which was probably a mistake. On reflection.

He only had a moment to dither, because no sooner had Hermione shut the door behind her, than Sirius sprang to his feet and crossed the room in no more than a couple of strides of his long legs.

"Do you miss Harry?" he asked.

"Er. Yeah." Ron answered, startled. He tried to sit upright, to pull his legs closer.

Sirius nodded slowly. Then he sat down next to Ron.

"He's very like his father," Sirius observed.

Ron mumbled, "Everyone says that."

Dark, deep, grey eyes looked steadily into his, then away. "I think you might be somewhat like me," Sirius added, quietly. Then he asked, "Is she your girlfriend?"

Heat filled Ron's face and neck and he knew that he had just blushed a bright Weasley red. He managed to choke out between splutters, "No! Her? Girlfriend? No!" He was mortified! A grown-up he didn't know very well had asked him that? He wasn't sure what Hermione was to him, nor what he wanted her to be, but he was not about to discuss anything so personal.

In the time it took to compose himself, somehow Sirius had managed to scoot closer to him. "Very good move," he said, putting his hand on Ron's thigh. "Keep the girls at arm's length. You understand me? They just mess things up. Yoko Ono. Mrs Simpson. Lily Evans. You understand me? Don't let her add herself to the list."

Ron couldn't speak. He was feeling all hot and itchy and weird. Also, he had a hard-on, but then he was always getting those at inappropriate moments. Knowing his luck, when he did finally get into a situation where an erection might actual be useful, it wouldn't happen.

Sirius squeezed his thigh. "You're a good friend to Harry." He leaned closer, as though he was about to say something confidential. His straggly, black hair stroked Ron's cheek. He opened his mouth.

Then there was a 'crack!' and Sirius leapt away as the twins appeared. It was the first time Ron had been grateful for his brothers' new Apparition skills and their habit of using them to unnerve people. He could still feel the warm tingle on his thigh in the place where Sirius' hand had been.

"What was that about?" George asked, looking after the gaunt figure rushing through the doorway.

Ron shrugged.

"What was he saying, baby bro?" Fred persisted.

"I don't know," Ron muttered. "Didn't make any sense."

The twins shook their ginger heads in unison and tutted.

"Azkaban's taken its toll," one of them commented with a sigh. Ron wasn't looking at them so he wasn't sure which one it was.

"Where's Hermione?" That was Fred.

"I don't know." He couldn't remember what she'd said now. Thought had become a laboured process.

"Just as well," Fred said, and George nodded. They were doing that thing where they just looked at each other without speaking and then made joint decisions. They emptied the contents of their sleeves out onto the coffee table. They lined up the tiny jars and vials before George transformed them to full size with a wave of his wand.

Fred knelt in front of Ron and took hold of his wrist. He pressed his fingertips into the soft underside and then counted under his breath. Ron's body was gradually returning to normal. He tried to work out what Sirius had just said to him, but there wasn't enough time before George was shoving a jar of something sparkly and blue under his nose, pulling off the cap and saying "Sniff!"

"Huh?" He did what his brothers had told him to do, as he always did. It made him cough.

Fred let go off his wrist and wrote something in a notebook. George pulled a cork out of a vial and said, "Spit in here!"

"Huh?"

While George was examining the effects of his saliva, Fred took hold of his hand again, this time to paint something on the back of it.

It stung. "What the fuck?"

"Describe it!" Fred ordered solemnly, quill poised.

Half an hour later, Ron limped up to the bedroom he was using, with little pains and stings in all sorts of places, and odd tinglings in various parts of his body. When he opened the door, he was shocked to see Sirius sitting on his bed. The man was smiling, which wasn't something he'd witnessed very often and it unsettled him. He actually took a step back to make sure he was on the right landing, that this was the right room. Yes, there was the painting of the bloodied knife dripping into the goblet.

"Erm," he said "I think you're in my room." _And on my bed_ , he thought, but it seemed like a dangerous thought.

"Come in," Sirius whispered conspiratorially. "Close the door."

Ron did what he was told. He stood awkwardly with his back to the door.

"Brothers, eh?" Sirius rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I was a big brother, you know. I think I gave my little brother quite a hard time when we were growing up. Here."

Ron shivered. The thought of being brought up in this house was an appalling one.

"What have they done to you?"

"S'nothing," Ron mumbled. "Dunno," he added truthfully.

"When I was about your age, I ran away from home. I went to live with my good friend, James."

"Harry's father?"

"Come and sit down." Sirius patted the bed beside him.

Ron didn't move.

"I'll just check they haven't given you anything dangerous. Quick diagnostic spell. Won't hurt."

Ron shuffled forward, and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.

Sirius didn't even get his wand out, he just kept on talking: "James' parents were very welcoming. His mother treated me like I was her own son. His father, though, Mr Potter, well ..." Sirius' eyes began to lose focus; Ron wondered whether this would be a good opportunity to escape. Then Sirius said, "That first summer, he taught me some things, educated me, in the ways of love. For which I have always been grateful."

 _Hang on_ , Ron thought, _did he just say what I think he said?_

Sirius continued, "He understood the erotic and he guided me, introduced me to a new world. I knew then that one day it would be my task to initiate my own sensual apprentice." He made eye contact with Ron and softly placed his palm back on his thigh. Ron couldn't breathe. They just stared at each other for several seconds. "If you are not happy, then tell me. At any point, you can stop this. Maybe we will pause only for you to get your wind back, or end our arrangement altogether. You are in control, Ronald." Only, Ron wasn't, at that moment, in control of any part of his body.

"Have you ever been kissed, Ronald?" Sirius asked.

His mouth too dry for speech, Ron just shook his head.

"Good! I'm so glad to have caught you before _girls_ have begun to corrupt you." Sirius licked his lips, slowly and Ron found that he couldn't take his eyes off that wet tongue and the cracked lips, the way the black dots of stubble came almost to meet the soft mouth flesh.

Then Sirius put his own thumb into his mouth. It was so wet when he brought it out that a string of spittle marked its journey to Ron's lips. Swiftly, Sirius ran the damp thumb across Ron's mouth. It should have been disgusting, but somehow it was something else, and anyway, before Ron had a chance to react, Sirius' mouth was pressing against his.

Strong arms encircled Ron's skinny body, then, as the kiss deepened, fingers rubbed over his scalp. His eyes had closed themselves. He felt his lips parting and the firm warmth of another tongue joined his own.

At first only Sirius' mouth moved. Ron was frozen with shock. After a while, his own body's reactions overwhelmed him and still he could not move. Gradually, though, he relaxed, sank into the older man's embrace and his own mouth began to stroke back against its welcome invasion.

It was all over in a couple of minutes. Sirius pulled away and let go. Ron was embarrassed to hear himself mewl regretfully. His panting filled the room.

Sirius smiled, but his breathing sounded perfectly even as he said, "That's lesson one. I'll be back tomorrow night."

So dazed that he didn't know what to do with himself, Ron watched him walk out of the room. He lay back on his bed. Stunned. Then he realised that there was only one thing which he **could** do with himself. He kicked off his shoes, undid his trousers and got his hands in his underpants for a vigourous tug.

He woke in the morning, messy and clothed, lying across his bed. He was still naked from waist to knee and very glad that his mother hadn't come in to wake him with a cup of tea yet.

As he made himself decent, his brain tried to piece together the previous night's experiences. Wasn't this stuff supposed to happen to girls? This was what Ginny was always being protected from: the advances of older men. It wasn't meant to be enjoyed, either, it was meant to be feared. It was similar to some of the fantasies he'd had about Madame Rosemerta. Only Sirius was a man. And Ron didn't think he'd ever been attracted to men.

Someone like Lee was hot, he could recognise that, but that didn't mean he wanted to ... well, maybe he did actually. Those Beauxbatons girls last year had done his head in, no doubt about it. But now that he thought about it, Krum's muscly chest had been distracting, too.

What exactly would an erotic education entail? Things he wanted to do, or things he ought to avoid? A combination? Sirius had told him that he was in control, but that wasn't how it felt at all. He had said that Ron could stop this, but last night, that kiss ... Ron touched his fingertips to his lips. It must have been his imagination, but he could still feel that warm, moist hardness moving against them. When they had been kissing there was no way, even with a supporting army of dragons, that Ron could have said 'stop!'

After lunch, he still hadn't decided what he should be doing, or even how he was feeling, when his mother ushered them all out of the kitchen to make way for yet another Order Meeting. Sirius walked into the room as Ron walked out and all the blood in Ron's body rushed to his cock. Then he knew what he was going to do. He had no choice really.

That night, Ron went to his bedroom early and he waited. He thought about taking some clothes off, finally deciding that might make him look a bit too keen, and that perhaps he should try to keep a little of what his mother called an 'air of mystery'.

This was all wrong, of course. He should really be trying to avoid Sirius. Maybe tell someone. Yes, he would ask Hermione for advice. Not Hermione. Someone older. His mother wouldn't do, she'd have a blue fit. Percy. No, not Percy, Percy had gone.

Then the door handle turned and his cock jumped to attention and he knew that there was no way he was going to say anything to anyone and no way that he wanted to put a stop to this adventure.

When Sirius' lithe body slipped into the room, Ron's heartbeat took over his body. It was a wonder that Sirius couldn't hear it: so loud, so fast, shaking every muscle and ligament. Sirius just smiled slowly and Ron's mouth dried out.

"So, my young apprentice," Sirius purred, "are you ready for the second lesson?"

Words tumbled out of Ron without his permission: "I don't suppose we could recap lesson one first?" He swallowed. "Please?" His skin was hot with embarrassment and he squirmed nervously on the chair. He had spent all day remembering that kiss.

Sirius looked like he was trying to suppress a grin when he asked, "You liked that did you? Oh _a kiss is just a kiss_ , as the song says, you've got many more new pleasures to experience." He shrugged as though he wasn't bothered whether they kissed or not. "All right, then."

He strode over to Ron, who stood to meet him. Looking into his eyes, Sirius' large, strong hands held his face and they kissed again. This time Ron knew what was going on and he was able to kiss back straight away. He felt every joint melt, but luckily he was held up as Sirius moved one hand to cup one of his buttocks. He got his arms round his chest and held on tight.

This kiss lasted longer than the first and Sirius took the opportunity to caress and stroke the youngster in his embrace. His fingers dipped into the dimple of his buttock and he tried not to groan. After all, he was meant to be the one in control.

Eventually he mustered the strength to break the contact and said, "You _are_ a fast learner. I knew you'd be good."

Ron ducked his head in shy pleasure at such praise.

"So sweet," Sirius murmured. He let go of Ron's face, but kept one steering arm around him as he manoeuvred him across the bedroom, to face the large mahogany wardrobe in the corner. He opened the door and stepped up, pulling Ron into the dark with him.

"Wha...?" Ron began, but Sirius gave him a swift peck on the mouth and he stopped wondering, stopped thinking at all.

There were the familiar sparks of wandwork and then there was a source of pinkish light at the back of the wardrobe. Ron was pushed towards it. He took a few steps along a narrow passageway, and then stumbled down a couple of stairs, before falling through a thick silk curtain into a strange room.

This room was dominated by a four-poster bed under a mirrored ceiling, the carpet was thick red velvet, the walls were decorated with erotic prints and the whole place was bathed in a reddish light. Apart from the bed, there were couches, bath tubs, chaise longues and a couple of animal skins in front of a blazing fire. A thick, spicy perfume filled the air.

Ron stood, drinking in his surroundings. He was used to secret passageways and mysterious rooms, but this one promised excitements of which he had no experience. Sirius waved his wand and the music of a string quartet started playing quietly. Then he approached Ron and smoothed his hand over his ginger hair.

While Ron lost himself in depthless grey eyes, long fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. Sirius leant down and kissed the young man's pale, freckled neck with tiny, light kisses. Ron moaned. Sirius slipped his shirt off his shoulders. Then he picked up the hem of his vest.

Ron realised that he was being stripped; he jumped away. Colour rose up from his neck, over his cheeks.

"Your coyness is delightful." Sirius' voice seemed to be thick with honey. "But we need to get rid of these --"

"I, no, I don't ..." The teenager looked down his own skinny body. He was ashamed of his protruding bones, his paleness, his erection and his smells. His body had been running beyond him for years. Until he was about twelve he had been comfortable with it. Then it had begun to shoot up, sprout hair, secrete, thicken in some places and thin in others; it was out of his control, the limbs no longer obeyed orders. It was bad enough that he knew it was there, under his clothes. Much as he wanted to be touched, he never wanted anyone else to see that horror which was, apparently, now him.

"You have no understanding of how beautiful you are, Ronald. You cannot have any way to know what you do to me. When you are my age, then perhaps you will appreciate the gift which your youth presents to me. Trust me, Ronald, let me see what I have only dreamed of."

"Nobody calls me Ronald. I'm Ron."

"I will call you Ronald, for it is your name and it is a name of birdsong and poetry to me."

"Whatever," Ron grumbled.

"And you will call me Mr Black. Or Sir."

Ron stared incredulously. They had just been snogging, and suddenly now he wasn't allowed to call the man by his first name?

Sirius chuckled. "Only cos it's hotter like that. I think because it makes it feel forbidden."

Like their relative ages and the sneaking around and their genders and having a pretty good idea of what his parents' reactions would be, didn't make it 'forbidden' enough already? Ron snorted.

Sirius stepped back and appraised his apprentice. It was cold without his proximity and Ron wanted him back. He hoped he hadn't blown his chances.

"Please," Sirius said, unexpectedly. "Go on, play the game. I mean we could just – you know – do this straight, and that would be lovely, but --" he shrugged. "Try it the 'Mr Black' way? It'll be good. And – you know what? -- this way you won't have to pretend to know what you're doing, just let me do all the work."

Ron bit his lip and looked down at his dirty trainers. Then he looked up at Sirius through his lashes. "Yes, Mr Black," he breathed coyly. "Sir," he added.

Sirius whooped a little cheer and then suppressed it. Then he reached forward and solemnly lifted Ron's vest up over his head and his raised arms. He ran the flats of his hands down his bony chest, over the light, soft hairs there, down to his navel and on down, further, as the hair thickened and darkened and the flesh softened. When he reached the waistband he popped open the fastenings.

They both watched as he tugged down the trousers. When the cold air hit Ron's cock he gasped. Sirius hummed with happiness. Unable to bear the silliness of his glistening, bobbing member, Ron looked into his seducer's face instead and saw only appreciation. He wondered, then, how he was going to feel when he saw Sirius naked. Mr Black. Naked. If. When.

He ached to be touched, but instead he was lead to the free-standing copper bathtub beside the bed. With a wave of his wand, Sirius (Mr Black) filled it with bubbles and a lemony, nutmeggy scent along with a little steaming water. He guided Ron in. Then he picked up a flannel, wetted it, and started to work on Ron's neck.

Ron sat stiff and unsure.

"Just relax," Sirius said in his seductive 'Mr Black' voice.

Ron lay back against the warm metal and tried to. There was a crystal bottle by the bed with lilac contents. Sirius tipped some onto the flannel and he worked it in little circles over Ron's chest; it felt slippery and that was nice. More than nice.

He took his time, getting to know the youthful body from his ears to his belly button. Then he moved down to his feet and worked his way up. Ron groaned with frustration, as the place he most needed to be touched was missed out. The bath water lapped at the backs of his thighs. He felt on fire, like his skin was all sprinkled with pepper. Sirius' graceful fingers worked at the sensitive spots between each of his toes. His brain sang beyond thought. Sirius worked oil in behind his knees. Next there was the ticklish caress of his inner thighs and finally, finally, finally ... Sirius paused at the fold between torso and leg and Ron arched up at him.

"Please, Mr Black, please, please --" he whimpered.

"Please what, Ronald?" replied Sirius thickly.

"Please touch me. Sir. Please touch me."

"I _am_ touching you, Ronald."

"No! My ... my ... Grrrr!" He growled in frustration and grasped his own cock.

"Uh, uh!" Sirius chided and slapped his hand away. "That's my job."

"So why won't you ...?"

"Do you want me to touch your penis, Ronald? Shall I take your throbbing, dripping manhood in my hand? Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Oh yes! I mean please. I mean Sir!"

"Good boy," Sirius murmured.

He dripped more of the lilac oil over the washcloth and then very gently wrapped it around the base of Ron's cock. Ron tried to thrust through it, but it was held firm. Then slowly, very slowly, his nerve-endings screaming, Ron felt the greasy flannel moving up his length. He released a satisfied moan.

The cloth travelled over his lightly-haired balls, over his perineum and backwards, between his buttocks to his hole. Ron's hips lifted themselves to allow better access, but already Sirius was moving to the front again. He swept back between Ron's legs, over his balls and slowly up his cock. When he reached the tip, he slid his thumb over the slit.

"Stop! Don't stop. I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..."

"Oh yessss!" Sirius hissed and suddenly his fist was gripping tighter and moving faster: up, down, up, down, up – and it was over. Ron shot huge spurts of come into the air. He rode the incredible heat of his orgasm and collapsed, panting back against the tub. There was a tinkling of water as Sirius rinsed the flannel through in the bath water. Ron kept his eyes closed.

"Good boy, Ronald. Such a good and lovely boy you are," Sirius whispered breathily. He wiped at his forearm and Ron's belly, cleaning off the ejaculate. Then he touched the cloth to Ron's softening cock. Gasping, Ron sat upright.

"Too sensitive?" Sirius asked.

Ron just nodded. They looked at each other.

"You are fantastic," Sirius said solemnly. "That's the most arousing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Really?" Ron was sceptical.

"Oh, Merlin, yes!" Sirius ran his fingers through Ron's hair again and stroked his cheek. Then he got one arm under his knees, pushed the other between the copper and Ron's back, and lifted him up. As he was carried to the bed, Ron heard a lilting whispering and giggling and he looked round.

"It's the pictures," Sirius explained.

It was true, all the nymphs and satyrs, athletes and orgiastic Romans had crept right up to their frames and were watching the two wizards. Ron was appalled. Many of then were touching themselves. He had had an audience? He couldn't think how daft he must have looked, writhing and begging and – ew! - coming. And now: he was being carried like a baby, all wet and oily, to a bed.

Sirius put him down, laid him out on top of the black silk coverlet. He gazed down enraptured and Ron forgot about any watching eyes but those grey, lust-filled ones.

"You're still dressed," Ron said.

"I know, I ... " Sirius climbed up onto the bed and knelt over Ron. He leaned down to kiss and lick and bite all over him. Ron could feel himself getting all turned on again. Sirius groaned. "Oh, to have that recovery time still!" He bent his head and licked at Ron's red tip, causing a shiver of joy to ripple through his whole body.

Sirius positioned himself between Ron's legs and lifted them up, gazing at his groin: his cock, his balls, his bum and ... ah, yes! Ron knew what he was looking at. Sirius stared and licked his lips. Ron had wondered whether he would want this, but there was no doubt in his mind any more.

"Yes," he whispered. "Do it."

Sirius shook his head. "I can't. I really want to. But I can't."

"Yes you can, I just said so."

"No. That's lesson five." Sirius' left hand slid towards the tempting pucker, slipping over the oily skin of hairless inner thigh.

Ron chuckled. "Mr Black," he said. "Sir. Can't we ditch the curriculum?" He could hear a throaty sexy tone to his voice which he'd never had before. He rolled his hips up. "I'm a very quick learner."

Sirius made an odd, choked noise and looked away. There was silence. Ron shivered. Sirius noticed and he wrapped part of the coverlet over his wet, naked body. Ron noticed the bulge in Sirius' robes. Sirius lay down beside Ron and hugged him closer.

"I'm supposed to take you back to your room now, not to touch you again until tomorrow night," he mumbled into Ron's hair. "Don't want to."

"Don't want to go," Ron agreed. "Why are you supposed --?"

"It's the way Mr Potter taught me, the way he was taught, the way it is always done."

They lay together in silence. Then Ron asked, "Why me?"

"Why you?" Sirius barked a quick laugh.

"Well, yeah. Why did you choose me? Or are you doing my brothers, too?"

Sirius sat up and gave him an incredulous look. "I'm thirty six," he said. "Prison's no health cure. Where would I get that sort of energy?"

"So why me?" Ron insisted. "What about Harry?"

"Harry!" Sirius was horrified. "I couldn't! He's my godson. I'm supposed to protect him from men like me!"

Ron chuckled. "Who's supposed to be protecting me?"

"Well, whoever it is, I'm very glad they failed."

"So am I." They looked into each other's faces and their grins softened into gentle smiles, then serious faces as their pupils widened and their skin flushed.

"You want to?" Sirius asked.

"I really do."

"To make love? To be ... erm ..."

"Breached?" Ron asked with one raised, amused eyebrow.

"Taken?" Sirius suggested.

"Buggered," Ron said much more quietly.

"Are you sure?"

Ron nodded. He reached up to take hold of Sirius' head and pulled it down to his own. At the end of another intoxicating kiss, he breathlessly affirmed, "I'm so sure. I want it. Now."

Sirius tore at his own clothes and Ron watched. He watched the dark chest hair emerge, the brown nipples, the ribs nearly as obvious as his own. His passion overtook him and he was no longer able to merely observe. Together they yanked away at fabric. When Sirius' hard cock was released, it sprang out close to Ron's face. There was a smell to it, also a deep colour and a trembling. It scared Ron as much as it intrigued him and it aroused him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it.

Luckily Sirius moved and Ron was spared that choice. He rolled the youngster over onto his belly, all the while murmuring his admiration and pecking little kisses onto his sensitised skin. Ron allowed himself to be manoeuvred, positioned with his arse in the air and his face in the pillow.

Nimble fingers stroked him: squeezing and pulling his cock, rubbing at his hole, fondling his balls. Then he felt a stinging, burning pressing.

Sirius watched entranced as his first finger disappeared inside the pucker of muscle. He had stopped breathing. He was held by the tight heat and he waited, his other hand playing with the boy's other secret places, not with his own, although he was dying to. He felt the ring of muscle relax around him and slid his finger in a little more, then out a bit, in a bit, out further, in and out, in and out. He added another finger and again he waited for a moment. He summoned the crystal decanter of lavender-infused oil.

Ron was moaning and drooling into the soft cotton pillow. Every so often, Sirius' long fingers would brush against a place inside him which gave him a sensation which he longed to feel again. He ground his hips back. He could no longer keep track of exactly what was going on, but he felt filled in a satisfying yet frustrating way and the original burn had lessened to something comfortable.

Sirius took some deep breaths to steady himself as he lined up. This wasn't going to last long, but he was going to make it as good for the boy as he could.

"Ronald!" He gasped as he pushed into him.

"Mr Black," Ron grunted back.

Sirius ran his hand from Ron's bony shoulder, down his hot back, slicked by sweat and oil, flat-palmed over his spine, the undulation of his lower back and then over the curve of one arse cheek. That would have to be long enough. He thrust.

Ron had thought that Sirius' fingers had been fulfilling, but this was so much better! He was centred in that red space within himself and it felt better than anything he had ever experienced before.

The noises he was making were wanton and desperate, which was added to the way he pushed his pelvis back, and he way his flesh gripped onto Sirius' cock, which all made the older wizard drown in happiness and lust. It was almost too much. His rhythm gave out, but Ron didn't seem to care. They were a mass of heated muscle and nerves, moving together, driving each other to distraction.

Then Sirius reached round and got a slippy grip on Ron's thrashing cock. He held it tight and jerked his wrist only once before they both collapsed into screaming orgasms.

Many years later, thinking about that night and the educational weeks which followed it, Ron stood in the shade of a beech tree and watched his children and their friends enjoying a picnic in a park. They hadn't noticed him quietly, observing and deciding. On a bench by the pond sat Lily Potter and Lysander Scamander, chatting and throwing bread to the ducks. He waited until the chimes of an ice cream van lured Lily away, before going to sit beside the slim, blond young man.

Lysander looked surprised, but smiled politely.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Ron asked.

Shyly, the teenager shook his head.

"That's good," Ron said. He took a deep breath. "When I was about your age I stayed with her father's godfather one summer." Gently, carefully, he put his hand on the boy's thigh. It was not pushed away. "He taught me some things, educated me, in the ways of love. For which I have always been grateful." He waited for Lysander's reaction, but it amounted to no more than a nervous licking of his lips. "He understood the erotic and he guided me, introduced me to a new world. I knew then that one day it would be my task to initiate my own sensual apprentice." They stared at each other for several seconds. "If you are not happy, then tell me. At any point, you can stop this. Maybe we will only pause for you to get your wind back, or end our arrangement altogether. You are in control, Lysander."

Lysander's protuberant eyes were opened wider than seemed to be possible. He nodded.

"Have you ever been kissed, Lysander?" Ron asked.


End file.
